


Letters

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Oliver Twist (1999), Oliver Twist - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, No Smut, Romance, Shy and Scared Edward, Victorian, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 10:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy fic based off of Marc Warren's portrayal of Monks, otherwise known as Edward Leeford. All the poor boy wants is acceptance, yet his mother denies him at every turn. He may find it, however, in a beautiful young woman who is willing to listen and accept him for who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

I wandered into my new room, looking up at the ornate ceiling and marvelling at the beautiful colour of the walls. Me and my mother (my father previously deceased) had just moved to London to a house which had just recently opened up to the market. My gaze slowly travelled to the floor and I noticed a small triangle of white sticking out of the floorboards. Curious, I pulled at it, revealing a crisp letter that had been hidden through the wooden slats.

 _'My mother is making us move again_ ,' It read. _'To a 3 Pentonville Street, I think she said. Apparently it is only a few blocks away but I do so wish I didn't have to move again. I like to think that mother wants what's best for me, but that's simply not true. She wants what's best for her. So I am to move again, away from any friends that I might make or company that I might keep. To somewhere where they know nothing of my affliction and yet still look at me oddly as I walk past and talk in what I believe to be a normal manner. Perhaps I am just not made for this world._

 _Edward Leeford._ '

It was signed off in an elegant hand. I traced the words with my fingers, feeling intense pity for whoever had been driven to write it. I resolved to write to '3 Pentonville Street' as soon as I possibly could. Then my mother came into the room and I promptly hid the letter behind my back, standing up stiffly as she requested that I join her downstairs to help set up the furniture.

That night, when I had a few hours to spare, I set the candle down on my recently moved desk and got out a fresh sheet of paper. I re-read the poor man's letter and tapped my pen idly before starting to write. I expressed my condolences before writing briefly about my own life and whether he would like to contact me. I read it over several times before sealing it and leaving it on my desk to post in the morning.

* * *

After posting it, I only had to wait a couple of days before receiving a response. I intercepted the post and excused myself, running up to my room and tearing it open to read it. Tracing over the lines, I read over a more detailed letter that contained less anguish but was still just as genuine as the first. This occurred over several days, multiple exchanges of letters that I waited for avidly. He seemed an intriguing man and with every letter I was drawn in closer to his character. I was the one who suggested meeting up, as he had moved so close it would be very easy. I had possibly even walked past him several times in the neighbourhood without even realising. He agreed, seemingly excited from the tone of the letter and we arranged a time and place.

I was awfully nervous as I dressed for the occasion, my palms sweating as I slipped my gloves over them and checked over my appearance in the mirror. I lied to my mother, telling her that I was going to meet a friend as she wouldn't exactly approve of me meeting up with a stranger and it is frowned upon in society to be with someone of the opposite sex without a chaperone. I felt that if I did bring along someone else, I would be cheating him. Like I didn't trust him or something, and it sounded like he needed someone to trust.

I set out into the street in a brisk trot, punctual as always, and came across the lamppost in the busy market square where we had arranged to meet. I slowed my pace, seeing only a handsome young man with short dark hair glancing about. That couldn't be him. I waited a couple of moments before finally approaching him, feeling rather stupid as I tapped him on the shoulder. London is full of idle men.

"Excuse me, sir." I babbled as he spun around. "You're not in fact Edward Leeford, are you?"

"Yes. And you are Emilia Abberton." His mouth twitched into a smile before he bowed slightly and I responded with a small curtsy.

We were getting a couple of strange looks from passers-by so I gestured for Edward to follow me, which he did. I led him to a small alleyway which was closer to the poorer part of town, hopping onto the small wall at the back of an abandoned house's garden. No-one travelled down here, I had taken many of my friends so we could just be ourselves for a couple of hours without the confines of society and I hoped it was appropriate for me to bring Edward. He hesitantly sat beside me, possibly a little too close for what was proper but I decided to let it go. I _had_ invited him back here.

"Was all you said in your letters true, Edward?" I asked him outright. I wanted to make sure he wasn't a fake and gave him the opportunity to confess from the start. He looked at me slightly shocked, before nodding as he saw I was serious.

"Yes, of course. Was all you said true?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure." I explained and he nodded, his mouth twitching slightly at the sides. This was a bad habit, it seemed.

"You are rather taller than I expected you to be." I said, changing the subject quickly.

"And you are prettier than I could have possibly imagined." He said absently and it was my turn to look shocked at him. "I'm sorry, was that too forward of me?"

"Of course not." I replied after a couple of moments, rather breathlessly, before averting my gaze.

"I am sorry for reading the letter you left at the house in the first place. I was curious and it wasn't addressed to anyone, so I thought..." I trailed off, looking sheepishly at him but he only smiled back.

"It had been one of the best mistakes of my life." He assured me. "I always leave a letter at each house, I've been doing it ever since I could write, but no-one has ever responded, least of all a perfectly nice young woman."

We continued like this for a couple of hours, our conversation rather stilted at first but we soon settled into a rhythm which was hard to stop when it came down to it. We were only interrupted by the bells, five loud tolls to indicate the time.

"My goodness, five o'clock." He started, hopping off the wall and helping me off of it too. "I really must get going."

"Of course. May we meet at the same time tomorrow?" I suggested hopefully and to my great relief he nodded.

"I shall see you then." He kissed my hand fleetingly before rushing off in the direction of his house. I stood gawping at the spot where he had stood for a couple of moments before heading home myself; I had just met an attractive young man in an alleyway without my parent's permission! It gave me a small thrill to know I was breaking the rules. And I was going to do it again tomorrow.

* * *

 The next day I was just as nervous, despite knowing who he was. I reached the wall several minutes before he arrived, gasping and apologizing profusely that his mother wouldn't let him out.

"It's fine, It's fine." I giggled, pulling him onto the wall.

It definitely felt less awkward this time. We started with our usual chit chat before it became a lot more... personal. Despite only knowing him for barely a day, I felt that I could share anything with him and so I talked briefly about the death of my father and the effect it had on my mother, subsequently explaining why we had to move. And on this, he opened up, telling me about the cruelties of his mother and what he had endured.

Once we had both exhausted our topics we sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the presence of another person who understood the sheer grief that one life could hold. His far outweighed mine, surely, but I hoped my pain was still of some comfort to him. His hand briefly skimmed over mine resting on the wall and I glanced up at him, starting suddenly as I noticed something.

"Why Edward, your eyes!" I exclaimed, not able to take my eyes off of them, even as he shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.

"What?" He asked, rather worriedly turning his head away.

"They're different colours!" I smiled brightly, leading his head towards mine by placing two fingers on his chin, tipping his head up to the light. I was correct, one eye was a bright blue and one a deep hazel. How queer.

"It's not normal, is it?" He asked sadly and my heart almost split in two.

"Of course not." My eyebrows knitted together and I shifted closer to Edward on the wall. "But there is something beautiful in that. You see, I am merely ordinary, but you are individual, you have a marvellous air about you. You must remember that."

"No-one has ever spoken about me in that way." Edward said softly, looking anywhere but my eyes. There was another silence where I contemplated whether I should voice my next concern.

"But I can't help but notice, Edward, you look rather tired under those intriguing eyes. Do you sleep well?" I was referring to the dark circles that I had noticed the very first time I saw him. They were very... apparent against his pale skin.

"No." He mumbled, reluctant to tell me why.

"M-my mother..." He started but soon tailed off, his incessant twitching starting to override his features.

"You don't have to tell me." I said softly, placing a hand over his.

"I want to." He said firmly, composing himself. "My mother..."

He trailed off again, but this time fell violently on the ground: writhing and foaming, in a fit. I hopped off the wall, scared out of my wits as I helplessly fell to his side, watching him convulse. Then suddenly, he shot upwards, mumbling things like 'it isn't within me' or 'I can control it', obviously phrases encouraged by a doctor that were probably of very little help whatsoever.

"What was that?" I asked worriedly.

"I had hoped you wouldn't have to witness my affliction." He answered vaguely, slumping against the wall instead of hopping on top of it this time. It could be rather dangerous, falling off of brick walls, I mused.

I perched beside him, drawing my skirts beneath me as I watched him biting on his knuckles.

"Your affliction, Edward?"

He averted his gaze and I thought I wasn't going to get an answer until I heard him begin to speak, his voice slightly choked.

"I was run over by a horse and cart as a little boy." He explained. "I remember being happy before then... But ever since, I have had these fits that I can't control. The doctor told me no excitement."

"I do wish you had told me Edward." I said, sighing. "I was about to call for an ambulance or... Police or someone. You could have been dying, for all I know and I wouldn't want that to happen."

"I didn't want you to know."

I smiled sadly, shifting to sit in front of Edward.

"Well I do, Edward. And what has it changed?" I asked rhetorically, seeing him glanced up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"You needn't be afraid." I assured him, opening my palms in my lap and gesturing to put his in them. He did so, somewhat nervously, and I could see why as his hands were covered in cuts and scars, obviously from where he'd bitten them raw.

"My goodness." I breathed, lifting his hands. "Don't they hurt?"

"It reminds me to keep control." He said dismissively, basically replying in the affirmative.

"You poor thing." I sighed, leaning down and kissing each hand individually. When I looked up, there were small tears collecting in the corners of Edward's eyes and I had small heart palpatations.

"Are you hurt?" I babbled. "Oh my, it wasn't the fall, was it? If I had known, I wouldn't have sat us on a wall, what a stupid-"

"No." Edward interrupted me quickly. "No, no, I am not hurt Emilia. I am just overwhelmed. No-one had ever treated me with such kindness as you have."

"Oh, my poor dear." I reached into my corset, pulling out a handkerchief from my bosom and dabbing at his eyes. "You must stop, my dear, or I shall start to cry too."

It was then when he pulled me into a desperate hug, his hands gripping my arms and his head buried into my chest. It was a good thing that no-one traversed this alley or they would have come across a very odd sight; two young people hugging on the floor, both weeping without anyone else nearby. We might have even gotten arrested, for heavens sake. But luck smiled upon us as no-one discovered us and were free to cry from as long as we wished which turned out to be a rather long time. Eventually, we both calmed and agreed that it was probably time for us to go home.

"I do hate leaving." Edward said.

"As do I. But if we did not leave then we wouldn't be able to meet again, would we now?" I said, smiling up at him. And then, in a tremendous bout of courage, I leaned forward and placed a hesitant kiss on his cheek.

"'Till we meet again." I said, giggling as I saw the look on his face before walking away. I was immensely proud of my courage that day. For I wouldn't experience it again in a very long time.

* * *

 I waited at the wall the next day, a little impatiently as I wondered how Edward would treat me now. As the time went on, I wondered if Edward had simply been kept behind by his mother, like yesterday, so I continued to wait. An hour went by. Two. Tears pricked at my eyes; I wondered whether I had scared him off. Or perhaps he didn't truly like me. I waited another hour before giving up, trudging home while feeling absolutely rotten.

For the next three days I waited by that wall but Edward never showed up. On the third day, I brought along a note which I hid amongst the brickwork, hoping that Edward would notice it if he ever chanced upon the wall again. I kept writing letters, none of which he replied to, and in the second week a thought dawned on me; I could visit his house. I knew his address. But the more I thought of it, the less enthusiastic I was to attempt it. What if they had moved again, as Edward had said they do frequently, and a stranger answered; what would be my excuse? And what if it _was_ Edward? He obviously didn't want to see me if he wasn't replying to my letters.

So, begrudgingly, I stopped writing him letters. Every time I passed that stupid wall I had the faintest glimmer of hope that he'd be there, with his small smile and handsome features, but he never was. I gradually stopped thinking about him and although he never truly left my mind I tried to not recall Edward and how we had been for those two brief days because it only brought back the hurt. I carried on living my life. As he must have done also.

* * *

Seven years later and my mother had passed on, leaving me an orphan. At 24, this wasn't particularly a problem. I had plenty of inheritance money but I still took a job at a tavern which my mother's friend owned, wishing to bask in my riches when I was a little older and could feel less guilty on buying new things using my deceased parents money.

I was serving drinks at said tavern when I saw someone on the table I was serving who I was sure I recognised. There were two men, an old haggard red-haired man who looked as though you couldn't trust him as far as you could throw him, but the one I was interested in was a dark haired gentleman who averted his gaze as soon as I spoke up.

"Sorry, don't I know you sir?" I set the drinks down on the table, my arm reaching out as if to touch the gentleman who still wasn't looking at me. But then I gripped my hand, mentally scolding myself for being so foolish.

"I'm sorry sir. I shouldn't be so rude." I apologised before walking away. But I couldn't get him off of my mind and even as I was washing the dishes, preparing for the dinner shift, I was trying desperately to recollect his face and place it. Then I heard someone cough behind me and I almost smashed the plate I was holding then span around and I almost smashed the plate for a second time; Edward. That was the face.

"Oh my God." I muttered, placing the plate on the side and wiping my hands idly on my apron. "Edward."

"Emilia." He said curtly, barely even acknowledging me. I ignored this and barrelled straight into his arms, hugging him fiercely with my slightly damp hands even as there was no response.

"Edward?" I asked softly, pulling away. "Is everything alright?"

His jaw clenched and he turned to close the door to the kitchen. Fortunately it was only me in the room, for he grabbed my wrists and pulled me closer with such desperation in his eyes that I wondered how he'd masked it when he first walked into the room.

"I am so terribly sorry, I meant to meet you but my mother found out about you and she banned me from leaving the house and she burned all of your letters and kept such a close eye on me until I could no longer remember the address and I wanted to send you a letter but I couldn't and..." He babbled this in a wild torrent until I placed a finger to his lips, ceasing his rambling.

"There is no need to apologise Edward. It has been seven years, for goodness sake. And you are here now." I spoke kindly as to not upset him. I remembered him being of a very sensitive disposition. And as his face was in front of mine I gradually unboxed all of the memories that I'd stored away in my head; his twitching still hadn't calmed (although that was perhaps my presence bringing it on), he was still just as pale but he looked as though he slept a _little_ better nowadays.

"Come with me." I said, holding out my hand and calling to Greta, one of the other waitresses who fortunately owed me a favor, asking her to complete my half-finished dish washing. I led Edward into a back room where we could carry on our renunion in peace. I updated him on my current situation, both of my parents being dead so I started to work for a living, and he informed me that his mother had died, also. He recalled he day with such awful detail that I listened to him, spellbound, until he fell silent once more. And then I lashed out.

"And she dared call your affliction your 'party piece'?!" I cried out. "My god, if she weren't dead I'd kill her on the spot."

And then he was looking down on me with a queer mixture of awe and disbelief and I blushed slightly, averting gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful." When I gained the courage to look back at him again he was slowly shaking his head, smiling his small smile which I had missed so.

"No, it's... what I mean to say is I'm glad." He muttered. "I have missed you. I kept your words in my head, you know, as I was growing up. No-one has spoken to me in the same way since. They only stare."

"Oh Edward." I said softly, reaching out and taking his hands in mine. I looked down and inspected the marks and bruises still marring his hands and I winced slightly. That hadn't gotten any better either.

"I am more in control now." Edward said quickly, obviously taking my worried looks as a bad sign.

"That is one thing, at least." I agreed with him as he seemed rather proud of this fact. "But you still look as though you could use some sleep."

He quirked a smile at me and I mirrored him.

"I do believe I love you Edward." I blurted suddenly, colouring as soon as I did so. "I know it is terribly forward of me but as you know we have never been ones to follow proper etiquette."

He didn't answer for a while but just as I began to doubt myself he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me fiercely, all of the desire and want that had been building over the past seven years suddenly cascading down upon me and I realised truly how much I loved him and, perhaps more importantly, how much he loved me in return.


End file.
